Social Work

Part 1

I woke up startled by the sound of my front entrance door closing heavily. It took a few moments to ground myself, and I prayed my blurry eyes were deceiving me as my alarm clock flashed an angry 6:03am. Wow. Ed really wasted no time. I slowly rolled over on my back and stared at the blank ceiling, preparing myself for the shit show I would eventually have to clean up downstairs. 

Memories of the previous night were kind of fuzzy. I had almost forgotten how bad it was. I was reminded when I yawned and wiped away a tear that had escaped from my eye and trailed down my cheek. I winced at the pain in my jaw, but it was all too familiar. The only real surprise was that Ed had actually left this time. I wasn't sure if I should be afraid or relieved. My bare feet gently met carpet as I stood and tried to stretch the soreness out of my body. Bruised ribs no doubt. I figured I'd assess the damage after a hot shower. But, first thing's first. I required coffee.

Downstairs the kitchen was spotless as usual. Not one fingerprint present on the stainless steel appliances. Not a single solitary crumb to be found on the floor. But the living room was a different story. All of our wedding portraits had been yanked from the walls. The oversized leather recliner was on its back and I couldn't help but remember the weight of Ed's body holding me down in it while he screamed obscenities in my face. 

There was a cracked wine glass on the coffee table, I had knocked it over trying to escape Ed's wrath. A size 15 boot print on the front door further reminded me just how powerless I was against this oak tree of a man. I eventually stopped trying to run and took what I swore would be my very last beating from my soon to be ex-husband, Edward Bradley. I had never considered myself a victim of domestic violence, though on the outside that's clearly what I was. 

Aside from the beatings Ed didn't pay much attention to me anymore. He had worked his way up from laborer to foreman over the course of 3 years, and eventually became co-owner of Highton-Bradley Builders. Between trying to prove himself at work and fucking the small company's secretary, there wasn't anything left for me, aside from money and looks of disdain.

 And I really felt like I deserved all of it. I was a horrible wife. I had cheated on Ed, more than once, just to get his attention and prove to myself that I was still desirable. Sometimes it worked. Other times it backfired. Last night was one of the "other times". The kicker was, I was actually innocent this time. I glanced down at the broken glass covering the teal and chocolate living room carpet and sighed. I wasn't about to clean that shit up. At least not right away. Coffee was still brewing and I needed to shower and see how badly I was bruised up after last night's kerfuffle.

The shower proved to be very beneficial and I almost felt like a human again. I carefully walked across the wet tile to my dressing area and checked myself out in the full length mirror. My face was ok, aside from the swollen jaw. Thankfully there was no bruising, so I could play it off as a tooth ache. But the handprints on my neck would be hard to hide. 

My whole left side, shoulder to thigh, was completely covered in bruises that had the likeness of a topographical map. I kept a stash of painkillers from a previous dental surgery and I was never so proud of myself for planning ahead. As angry as Ed was, he surprisingly hadn't touched any of my clothes or other personal belongings. For that, I was grateful.

Ed's closet had been completely cleared out, however, with nothing left but a few wire hangers from the dry cleaners. Clearly he had been awake all night packing his things. I assumed he would file for divorce. I also assumed he would never agree to alimony without a fight. But I had no fight left in me. I was making decent money as a social worker for the city, and I had some money and from my parents' estate. But aside from my job, I had nothing to really focus on. 

We had tried several times to have a baby, and all 3 pregnancies ended in miscarriage. After the third loss, we just stopped trying. I had no siblings and my parents passed before l met Ed. Believe it or not, the day I met Ed Bradley I felt as if a prayer had been answered. I was still grieving the loss of my parents. I found it hard to cope and Ed swooped in like a knight in shining armor to save me. 

He didn't have much, but he was willing to give me everything. We honestly adored each other in the very beginning. But the stress of 3 failed pregnancies was too much for our relationship to bear and Ed didn't know what to do to comfort me. He wasn't even sure how to comfort himself. But he eventually began to find comfort in the company of Lettie. The cute secretary who types a whopping 20 WPM with her perfectly manicured index fingers. She wasn't the sharpest knife in the drawer, but she wasn't a bad person. I probably would have liked her in another life.

I thought about Lettie and Ed as I brushed my wet hair into a smooth bun atop my head. I hoped Lettie was smart enough to walk away if things got bad with Ed. Hell, I wondered if they hadn't already taken a turn for the worse. The bun made my face even more conspicuous and I couldn't downplay my swollen jaw anymore. It looked awful. 

I cursed out loud and reached for my cell to call my boss. I figured I would need at least a day to recover before I did any home visits. How would that look to a family in need, a visit from a social worker who had clearly just gotten her ass whopped? My boss, Ofelia Pérez, didn't answer. I left her a vague message saying I was sick and was running a fever. I knew Feli wouldn't fall for it and would call me on my shit, so I was happy to have reached her voicemail instead.

My phone rang exactly 10 minutes later. "Maya, what's really wrong with you? I know you're not sick. If you were, you would still come to work. What's up, mami. Did that bastard hit you? Again??" I sighed. "Feli, I just can't come in today, alright? And I have like 8 weeks of personal leave. It's not a big deal. I'll be in the office tomorrow, I promise." Feli was having none of this. 

"My, I really, really need you. Today. There's a 13 year old girl living with her mother in London Oaks. Neighbor called this morning, they suspect the mom's boyfriend is abusing her. I need you to check it out. And no, dammit. I can't send someone else. I need someone who will be tough and not afraid to remove the girl from that house. This case has Maya Davis-Bradley written all over it. I'll text you the address." Helping kids was the reason I had wanted to be a social worker in the first place. And as much as l wanted to push back, I couldn't. Damn. "Ok Feli. What's the girl's name?" Feli sighed. "Her name is Angela. Get moving. I want you there ASAP."